What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,Distilled from limbecks foul as hell within,Applying fears to hopes, and hopes to fears,Still losing when I saw myself to win!What wretched errors hath my heart committed,Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted,In the distraction of this madding fever!O benefit of ill! now I find trueThat better is by evil still made better;And ruined love, when it is built anew,Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.So I return rebuked to my content,And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.

[Groucho voice+eyebrows] Oh, is that what you call it? In my day, it was known as snooker. Today, the kids call it snooker-doodling, but back then they'd Photoshop your head out of the picture for just saying it, much less doing it! But we live in a lax age, speaking of which are they doing this frequently, with the museum and the head removal, even when no one has yet blown a gasket? Oh, if only our relationships came with, instead of contingent upon, tenure! Then we'd know where we'd stand. Or swoon. Or dance the tarantella. But not after that big breakfast, I've still got gas! And if I didn't have gas, oh, no, does that mean the terrorists won? Drat, I couldn't get my bet down with Ish Kabibel the only bookie a fellow can trust!

A serving-man, proud in heart and mind; that curled my hair; wore gloves in my cap; served the lust of my mistress' heart, and did the act of darkness with her; swore as many oaths as I spake words, and broke them in the sweet face of heaven: one that slept in the contriving of lust, and waked to do it: wine loved I deeply, dice dearly: and in woman out-paramoured the Turk: false of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand; hog in sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of shoes nor the rustling of silks betray thy poor heart to woman: keep thy foot out of brothels, thy hand out of plackets, thy pen from lenders' books, and defy the foul fiend.

One by one, we're all becoming shades. Better to pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age. How long you locked away in your heart the image of your lover's eyes when he told you he did not wish to live. I've never felt that way myself towards any woman but I know that such a feeling must be love. Think of all those who ever were, back to the start of time. And. me transient as they, flickering out as well into their grey world. Like everything around me, this solid world itself which they reared and lived in, is dwindling and dissolving. Snow is falling. Falling in that lonely churchyard where Michael Furey lies buried. Falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living, and the dead.

I have a tale to tellSometimes it gets so hard to hide it wellI was not ready for the fallToo blind to see the writing on the wall

Chorus:

A man can tell a thousand liesIve learned my lesson wellHope I live to tellThe secret I have learned, till thenIt will burn inside of me

I know where beauty livesIve seen it once, I know the warm she givesThe light that you could never seeIt shines inside, you cant take that from me

(chorus)

2nd chorus:

The truth is never far behindYou kept it hidden wellIf I live to tellThe secret I knew thenWill I ever have the chance again

If I ran away, Id never have the strengthTo go very farHow would they hear the beating of my heartWill it grow coldThe secret that I hide, will I grow oldHow will they hearWhen will they learnHow will they know

Its sad that this song has been hijacked by liberals as some kind of call to arms or wahtever.. to me it reminds me of my grandmother when i was crying missing my parents because they had to leave us behind (as i told you b4) she would sing to me Gracias a la vida until i fell asleep.

My father tells me that whenever someone or some popular trend was in effect the political powers would try and apropriate it, make it about them.. Sosa was so popular it was invitable that her songs would be usurped (usurpado) by the left.

I'm not sure usurpation is an english word - but if it's not it ought to be.

to the unitiated ;) (i say that knowing that i was once unitiated AS YOU MUST HAVE SURMIZED SINSE I HAVE NOT LIVED FOR EVER, but as you can tell i'm taking the time to tell you, that you are a good person and it not your fault that you are.. new you are new.. so there).. as I was saying ..to the unitiated i could be considered an usurper... Eastwood is right ..too much work for too little reward...

Thank God there is more to this thing than waht it appears on the surface.

The Atlanta Museum likes the King Tut artifacts exhibition so much that it come around again every 3 years. Now the Chinese emperor's Terra Cotta Army is in town. So 2300 to 3300 years ago's wicked items do this way come.